Mea Dulcis
by Constance Bonacieux
Summary: A Christmas Sherlolly one-shot. Sherlock and Molly have a holiday gift exchange.


**A/N: Request by a friend on Tumblr for some fluffy Sherlolly. Title means "my sweet" in Latin (according to Google Translate). Sorry if the characters are a little OOC; Johnlock is my OTP and I've never really written any Sherlolly before. Also, I really suck at descriptions. And endings. Anyway, hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to the BBC. I own nothing. **

"Jooohn," Sherlock whined. "How much longer is this going to take? I have an experiment waiting at home. It's wonderful! I'm testing the rate at which fingernails grow when–"

"Sherlock," John cut him off. "We can go back to the flat as soon as you pick out a nice gift for Molly."

Sherlock groaned and slouched against the seat of the cab. "But I'm _bored_! Why do I have to buy her a gift anyway?"

"Because it's Christmas Eve and she's your _girlfriend_, Sherlock!" John exclaimed, exasperated.

"Did you buy Mary a gift, then?"

"Of course I did! I'm her _husband_!"

"Well, I don't see the point in buying Christmas presents for loved ones. Molly doesn't _need_ anything, and I prefer to reassure her of my affections using other methods."

"Yeah, about that. You need to keep it down when you 'reassure her of your affections'. Mrs. Hudson is too polite to say anything about it, but you have been keeping her up late every night this week."

Sherlock blushed, the color standing in stark contrast to his pale face. "I don't know what you're talking about. Now, what am I supposed to get for Molly?"

Chuckling, John let him change the subject. "Well, why don't you get her some nice perfume? That's what I got Mary."

"No, Molly wouldn't like that sort of thing," Sherlock protested obstinately. "How about some socks? I think she mentioned she needed some."

John stared at him in disbelief. "Socks, Sherlock? Really? _Socks_?"

Confused, Sherlock replied, "What?"

"You don't buy_ socks_ for your girlfriend."

Sherlock huffed. "Fine. Let's go in there," he suggested, gesturing to a jewelry store. John nodded.

"Cabbie! Stop here, please." They exited the taxi, and Sherlock rushed ahead, leaving John once again to pay the cab fare.

Entering the store, Sherlock held back a groan. The store was bustling with men also buying last minute presents for their lovers. He stared around aghast, dumbfounded by the number of shoppers. John pulled Sherlock out of the doorway and farther into the store, telling him to browse for something he liked.

Bored out of his mind, Sherlock obeyed. He meandered about, examining his fellow shoppers more than the contents of the jewelry cases.

"Alcoholic, two kids, buying something for his mistress, not his wife," he muttered under his breath as he passed a weary-looking, middle-aged man.

Finally tiring of deducing the private lives of the poor, flustered men, Sherlock turned his attention to the array of jewelry on display. His eyes listlessly passed over item upon item. _Too big, too cheap-looking, too ostentatious_, he listed in his mind.

Slowly walking through the crowd, Sherlock made his way to the back of the store without anything catching his eye. He had lost contact with John almost immediately after entering the store; the sea of shoppers had pushed them apart.

Sherlock was just about to give up on his quest when a gleam of silver drew his attention to a case on the back wall of the store. Looking down, he spotted a silver necklace on a chain. It was quite a simple piece, but that was what made it so appealing. Bordering the edges of its shining heart were tiny diamonds that glittered in the light. The more he looked at it, the more Sherlock was certain that it was the perfect gift for Molly. He called to the discombobulated cashier, who fought his way over out of a large clump of customers.

"I'd like this necklace, please," Sherlock asked politely, plastering on the friendliest smile he could manage.

"Why, yes, of course. If you could follow me, we can make that transaction." He led the consulting detective to the check-out counter, where Sherlock gave him a credit card and produced an ID when one was requested. The man swiped the card and put the necklace in a small, velvet-lined case.

"Thank you for your business, Mr.… uh… Mycroft, sir!" he admonished, looking at the ID.

Not bothering to reply now that he had gotten what he'd wanted, Sherlock quickly exited the store and hailed a taxi. Once inside, he sent a text to John, who he had left behind: _Bought a necklace. I'll be at the flat. –SH_

A light smirk gracing his face, Sherlock sent the message.

* * *

Later that evening, Sherlock paced the flat, waiting anxiously for his guest to arrive. John had gone home to his wife soon after their shopping trip, leaving the mastermind alone with his anticipation.

Just as he was about to send Molly a text, asking where she was, Sherlock heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Throwing himself on the couch, he tried to appear nonchalant.

"Hi, Sherlock!" Molly greeted enthusiastically as she entered the room. Taking a seat beside the tall man, she gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Molly," Sherlock returned, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I have a surprise for you," he informed, the smile finally emerging on his face.

"Is that right?" Molly grinned at seeing the childlike eagerness in his usually stoic expression.

Sherlock nodded and reached behind the couch, where he had placed his violin. "This is just the first part of the present," he stated, resting the body of the violin between his chin and his collarbone. His slight fingers curled around the neck of the instrument, and he prepared his bow against the strings. A moment of silence passed, and then he started playing with a graceful vigor that seemed almost unnatural on the thin, lithe figure.

Molly listened, entranced, as he played. The music was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard, almost eerie. The piece started out slow, with flowing, gentle cadences. After a few minutes, however, the music started increasing in tempo. His fingers began to fly, and the bow raced back and forth across the strings. Molly felt her heart beat faster, enthralled by the charming melody. She couldn't seem to tear her eyes off of the violin, but she forced herself to look up at Sherlock's face. He was deeply concentrating, but still managed to seem relaxed, as if he played music as magnificent as this on a daily basis (which he often times did). Continuing the song for several more minutes, he coaxed the notes faster and faster from the instrument. Finally, the piece began to slow down again. Sherlock opened his eyes for the first time since he started playing. As he performed the last notes, his eyes locked on Molly's. The music ended, and he let his arms fall into his lap, still gazing into his lover's eyes.

Molly was the one to break the silence. "Sherlock," she whispered, eyes glistening. "That was so beautiful!"

Sherlock smiled and put his violin away in its waiting case. "I wrote it for you," he admitted, pulling her towards him as he sat back on the couch. She obliged and took a seat on his lap. "I call it _Mea Dulcis_."

Smiling, Molly reached up and brought their lips together in a short, passionate kiss, her fingers carding through his soft, brown curls. She sighed contentedly as they broke away and snuggled herself closer into Sherlock's chest.

"Are you ready for the second part of your gift?"

Molly nodded eagerly.

"Alright, close your eyes." She obeyed, and Sherlock gently lifted her from his lap and placed her beside him on the couch. Quickly, he stood and retrieved her necklace from his bedroom. When he returned, he made sure she still had her eyes closed before slipping the jewelry around her neck.

"You can look now," he announced after closing the clasp.

As she opened her eyes, she brought her hands up to touch the object dangling around her neck. Sherlock watched as her eyes widened in astonishment as they landed on the necklace.

"Sherlock!" she exclaimed, eyes glinting with unshed, joyous tears as she beheld the jewelry. "I love it!"

Sherlock grinned widely, a rare occurrence for the consulting detective. "I'm glad."

Molly grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a long kiss, savoring the taste of his lips. Abruptly, she pushed him away.

"I still have to give you your gift!" She rummaged around in her bag until her hands found a think packet of papers. Sherlock looked bewildered when she placed it in his hands.

"A job application?" he questioned, a confused frown marring his face. "What's this for?"

"It's an application for someone applying to be my assistant." She smiled shyly up at him. "I thought it would be nice if we could spend more time together, and if you were my assistant, you could examine all the bodies you want without me having to sneak you in."

Eyes widening as he realized the benefits of such a job, Sherlock put his arms tightly around Molly. "This is the best gift you could have ever given me," he murmured. "Thank you so, _so_ much."

Relieved that he liked his present, Molly snuggled closer into his form, giggling softly. "It's as much of a gift to me as it is to you," she admitted. "We'll be able to see each other so much more often."

Sherlock nodded with a smile. "Merry Christmas, Molly," he sighed. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Sherlock."


End file.
